My Wishes for My Son

In my early teens I moved to Pensacola, FL and started the 10th grade here.  Of course the thought of walking into a brand new school filled me with anxiety but it shouldn’t have.  Within a few weeks I made a friend, and then  another and so forth.  This collection of friends expanded to form our group of about ten, and we did everything together.  Five girls, five guys…it was like we were ten siblings.  I could call anyone for anything.  We were unique but kindred spirits.  With them I felt like I was safe and free to be who I am.  I think of them in particular every fall, when the air turns cool and I can hear the band from the high school during Friday night football games.  It always takes me back to the fall of 1987 when our little group came together.

It was not always that way.  I grew up in Connecticut.  Stayed in one school district until third grade and then moved to another, more urban area after my mother remarried..  I stayed in touch with my childhood best friend after the move and we saw each other occasionally.  In most grades of my early school years I made one good friend plus a few other casual ones.  In middle school I had few friends and was bullied relentlessly in my 7th grade year. Spent a lackluster 18 months in junior high after moving to Florida with my father, and then moving to Pensacola turned everthing around for me.  I owe so much to my little group.

When I look at my son I don’t want to see him reliving that pain of my early years, but I do.  We live in a neighborhood without any children.  For his first few years, he spent every day being doted on by his grandparents, and never started day care until he was two years old.  He’s sensitive, he’s solitary, he wants to join in but often doesn’t know how.  Since he’s started school I’ve heard the same story a dozen times…he wants to play but the other kids shut him out.  I know it’s him and not them.  I also know that the alpha-males in every group can be little butt-holes.  I know that his gentle personality combined with a pack mentality serve to isolate him from groups that he was very much to be a part of.

I walked into his after school program at his karate school yesterday I saw children in little groups of three or four sitting together on the floor, waiting for their parents.  My eyes darted from group to group until he was pointed out to me, a solitary figure in the center of the room, sitting quietly with his backpack.  He was emotional on the car ride home.  Eli “acts like a blackbelt” and tries to dominate everyone.  Josh says he has homework and can’t play.

I know that pain and I ache when I see it in him.  That shame of having to sit alone, knowing that everyone in the room can see that you are sitting alone.  The desire to be like the others, but knowing that you’re not.  Someday the things that set him apart will be his greatest attributes.  His quiet, tender spirit will enable him to exercise great compassion and generosity toward others.  His sensitivity will soften his words.  He will choose a vocation of meaning and purpose.

But for now, my desire to extinguish the pain in his little world overtakes me, and I ache for him. I don’t want him to feel what I felt, or take another ten years to find a group of friends who make him feel what I already know: that he is perfect in every way, just as he is at this moment.

Advertisements

About Joyce

40-year-old university advisor, 10-years married with two small children, trying to do it all and have it all and still manage the occasional social interaction through the wonderful world of blogging.
This entry was posted in Uncategorized and tagged , , . Bookmark the permalink.

6 Responses to My Wishes for My Son

  1. This brought tears to my eyes! Your son sounds amazing and you’re right he will go on to great things with his compassion and gentle soul!!

  2. I don’t think I saw this post the first time.
    I hope things have gotten better for your son since then.
    I feel the pain and have had similar issues w/my children. That ache for your children can be intense.

    • Joyce says:

      Thank you! Things are better. For one thing, I took him out of that program and put him into his original after school program. There were lots of activities at the one I switched him back to, not so much milling around at the end. The lady running the one I switched him to was also mindful of when someone was being left out and would try to encourage inclusion, rather than just let him fend for himself.

      As he’s gone through school, he has made friends through the years so now he ends up with kids he knows in his class each year. He’s become more comfortable in a lot of ways, but sometimes in group situations he still struggles. When I speak with his teachers, I always inquire about how he is doing socially. To me that is just as important as academics.

      I had sort of gathered from some of your posts that you might have some of the same worries as I do. Yes, it is hard. And it angers me when the adults that we entrust them to don’t do enough.

      • Yeah, we always ask about the social as well. I also think those in charge whether its the teachers or whomever should be more aware of how the kids are socializing and try to foster for those who struggle.
        I’m so glad it’s going better for him. Good for your being vigilant.

      • Joyce says:

        How is it going for yours?

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s